


Convergence 3/7

by Soledad



Series: Beautiful Minds [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Torchwood
Genre: F/M, Five Times, Smart Is The New Sexy, beautiful minds, icemanverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 22:31:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2205432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soledad/pseuds/Soledad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Toshiko Sato didn't sleep with John Watson and one time she did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Convergence 3/7

**CONVERGENCE  
by Soledad**

**PART 3 – THE ALUMINIUM CRUTCH**

The third time they _almost_ do it is entirely Sherlock’s fault. Not that _that_ would surprise anyone because honestly, who else would come up with the insane idea of nicking John’s theatre-tickets to take out Toshiko to a play as a compensation for the bubble bath incident?

The very same theatre-tickets John’s taken great pains to get for his current girlfriend – nicknamed by Sherlock as _the one with the nose_ , as if the others didn’t have one – as an apology for too many cancelled dates.

_The one with the nose_ (and with the big, mean dog that tried to bite John at several occasions), who’s wanted to see _Terror By Night_ in that new little place on the Strand for quite some time, breaks up with John as a result, of course. And despite some guilty relief that he won’t have to walk the dog-shaped monster anymore, John doesn’t react well to another budding relationship ending prematurely because of his inconsiderate flatmate.

He refuses to speak with Sherlock for several days to come.  
That Sherlock returns from the theatre bouncing off the walls because of a murder happening live on stage doesn’t help things, of course. Neither does the fact that Sherlock solves the case within the hour and is insufferably pleased with himself for the next couple of days.

John reiterates by typing up Sherlock’s deductions – the ones he delivered in a number of messages on his voicemail because he couldn’t be bothered to call the police himself and expected John to do so for him – with all the erratic leaps in logic which, frankly, makes the world’s only consulting detective sound like an idiot.

Unfortunately for him, Sherlock doesn’t care, and it doesn’t make John feel any better afterwards.

(Little does he know that people in _very_ high places will find this particular story the most enjoyable of all. But that’s a different matter entirely.)

So he ends up hiding away in 221C again – as for some reason he hasn’t figured out yet, Sherlock never looks for him there – because he can’t trust himself _not_ to throttle his best friend in his sleep. Now that the man, having solved the case, actually does sleep a few hours.

“I’ve put up with the screeching of the violin at 3am,” he complains bitterly. “I’ve put up with the mess all over the flat, with the experiments in the kitchen, with the eyeballs in the microwave and the thumbs in the fridge, next to my lunch. I’ve put up with being kidnapped by friend and foe alike, although sometimes I truly wonder which is which. I’ve put up doing all the mundane tasks in the flat, like shopping and washing the dishes and cleaning up. I’ve put up with having my belongings, what little I have, borrowed without asking first. But does he really have to annoy away my girlfriends, too, before even they could become, you know, my actual girlfriends?”

Toshiko listens to his rant with gentle compassion and pours him a double Scotch for comfort.

“Have you considered that he may simply be jealous?” she then asks, sipping her jasmine tea. John pulls a face.

“I’m getting sick and tired of explaining everyone that I’m not actually gay,” he says tiredly.

Toshiko smiles. “That’s not what I mean. Look… you’re the only person who’s held out with Sherlock _voluntarily_ for more than a year. Yes, I understand that you’re not gay, but you do provide him with everything _else_ one could hope from a committed relationship.”

John tries to protest, but she silences him by putting down her teacup and counting things down on her fingers.

“You provide him with company. You see that he eats and sleeps, at least as much as he’s capable of. You stand up to him when he’s being obnoxious and you navigate him around the pitfalls of social interaction. _And_ you admire him for what he is and aren’t afraid to show it. These are things he never had before. Is it really so surprising that he’s terrified of losing it, should you find a woman you’re seriously interested in?”

“You make it sound as if he were a child with abandonment issues,” John huffs.

“Isn’t he?” she asks seriously, and it’s hard to argue with _that_.

“I’d never abandon him,” John says quietly, after a long pause.

“I know you won’t,” Toshiko answers gently. “But should you find a true love interest, your attention, which he can and does monopolize fully at the moment, would be divided. And that scares him more than he’d be willing to admit.”

“And _that_ makes me… what exactly?” John asks, not really buying it.

“The person he needs most,” Toshiko replies promptly. “My sympathies. Given that he’s a Holmes, and a possessive one even by his family’s standards, that puts you in a situation nobody would envy.”

“You mean all Holmeses are like that?” John asks in surprise. He can’t imagine Mycroft being so childishly jealous. Although, seeing how he watches Sherlock’s every step…

Toshiko nods. “I never met their infamous Mummy, mind you, but both brothers show the same possessive tendencies. Mr. Holmes is much better where social graces are concerned, of course, but deep within they’re not that different, really. They’re both brilliant, infuriating… and broken.”

“And where do _you_ enter this picture?” John gives in to the curiosity that has been tickling him ever since he met Toshiko for the first time. “Which one does consider you his own? Or do they fight over you?”

“They don’t have to,” Toshiko replies flatly. “Mr. Holmes _owns_ me in ways you can’t even imagine, and Sherlock has learned the hard way not to touch that which is his brother’s.”

“I thought slavery has been outlawed in this country for quite some time,” John comments dryly.

“It’s not quite that romantic,” Toshiko says. “I owe Mr Holmes everything: my life, my sanity, my freedom, such as it is in these days; and he’s a man who collects his debts,” she smiles at John’s thunderous expression. “Don’t be so shocked. All he’s interested in is my brain. I’m _useful_ for him, and he has every right to use me.”

“And that’s different from slavery how exactly?” John asks, his eyes dark with anger.

“It’s called indentured servitude,” Toshiko corrects. “The original agreement was to work for him for five years in exchange of… well, that’s another story for another time. So far, we’ve both upheld our respective ends of the bargain, and the five years are almost over. But…”

“But you’ve proved too useful for Mycroft to let you go,” John realises, and Toshiko nods.

“I don’t blame him if he doesn’t,” she admits quietly. “What I’ve done… I didn’t deserve his intervention, and if I worked for him a century, it wouldn’t erase my debt. It’s just…”

“It’s just so that you’re a human being, not a machine, and that’s something the Holmeses seem to have difficulties to understand,” John finishes for her.

She nods, her eyes suspiciously bright.

“I don’t think anyone else would understand,” she says, and John can’t help but agree, because Anthea, or what her name really might be, clearly doesn’t count. She _is_ a machine, or something very close to it.

And since this is a day when they both need comfort and companionship, John doesn’t return to 221B for the night. They sleep in Toshiko’s bed, curled up against each other for warmth and reassurance like two lost children.

The sounds of Sherlock’s violin can barely been heard in the basement, and John doesn’t have a nightmare during the night.


End file.
